


Floored

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Character Study, Episode: s02e01 In the Shadow of Two Gunmen Part I, Episode: s02e02 In the Shadow of Two Gunmen Part II, Episode: s02e10 Noël
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-10-07
Updated: 2005-10-07
Packaged: 2019-05-30 21:21:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15105116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: Brief look at how Josh doesn't like how his life was changed by that bullet





	Floored

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

**Floored**

**by:** Rather 

**Character(s):** Josh Lyman  
**Category(s):** Character Study  
**Rating:** MATURE  
**Summary:** Brief look at how Josh doesn't like how his life was changed by that bullet  
**Spoiler:** 2-01 In the Shadow of Two Gunmen I, 2-02 In the Shadow of Two Gunmen II, 2-10 Noel  


Dear God, okay.  I admit it.  I’m a guy, with all that that means, including the capacity for fantasy that any one of us is capable of generating at the drop of a hat.  Or…whatever.  So while the concept of finding myself flat on my back in Donnatella Moss’s work space with my tie and belt loosened is neither foreign nor unwelcome to me, there were several factors that warned me that this wasn’t the day, after all, when this particular dream had come true.

 For one thing, I had a spectacularly unpleasant view upside down straight up Toby’s nose.  Sam knelt at my right side; wearing that expression that I swear kills me a little bit inside each time I ever see it, knowing that it was me that did something to put it there on his face.  Donna was there, of course, white-faced but determined to instantly do whatever was required of her, no matter what.

And I’m sure there were lots of others there, too, come to think of it, everyone, I suppose, including a few secret service agents, but since the world seemed to have turned into a giant wave machine, it was hard to focus on anyone more than three feet away who was moving.

There was a dark head pressed against my chest, pointing the right direction, south that is, but brown is not my color.  Unless she ever decides to be brown instead of blonde, I mean.

“He’s awake,” someone tattled, and the dark head swooped around.

“Good,” she said.  “Hey, Josh.  Take it easy.  You’re going to be okay.”

I blinked and nodded.  Whatever.

“Ambulance is here,” someone said.

Oh, no.  Whoa right there.  See?  I’m okay.  I can sit up.  I can tap dance.  I am not going to the hospital, no way no sir no how.  “Nn-no,” I slurred, rolling to my side so I could push up with my left arm, a trick I’ve learned since the right could be shaky sometimes these days.

Oh, crap.  Wrong thing to do.  Dizzy, shaking, Christ, make the world stop spinning.  They were talking and talking and I - I’m a man, dammit.  I don’t want to go to the doctor.  I want to be myself again.  I want my energy, my life, my careless ways and my endless strength.  I hate this weak assed piss-off freaking grandpa body that freaking pissant with a pistol left me with, that still gets weak unexpectedly, that still doesn’t  have the stamina I was used to six months after the fact.  I refuse to believe that I never will again.  

Just to kick me while I was down, the damaged muscles in my back went to a spasm. I gasped and bit down on my lip, arching away from the pain, knowing the futility of the attempt, but helpless to stop it.  The pain spiked and now I was grinding my teeth instead of my lip, eyes squeezed closed, gasping for choked breaths.

It finally eased up.  I wanted to cry from the relief as I sagged back to the floor, into supporting hands of my friends from all sides.  I was so humiliated I wished I was dead.  

I looked up at the evil witch who was sending me to that dark, humbling place I hated so much.

I couldn’t remember her name.  “Abbey,” I tried.  Oh, no, that would never be right.  “Mrs. President,” oh, hell, no, someone’s replaced my brain with cold, sticky oatmeal.  “Dr. Bartlet.”  There.  I think that was it.  “Please. Don’t make me go there.  I’ll be fine.  I’m okay.  I think I stood up too fast.”  Or something.

She looked unimpressed.  Of course she would.  She was married to Jed Bartlet, the King of Denial.  Did that make him Pharaoh?  “I think you stood up too fast after skipping breakfast, lunch, and your meds,” was her reply, “and I think you’re going to the hospital and I think you’re not going to give me any more crap about it.  What do you think of that?”

I think that’s when I passed out again, actually.

They forgot to tell them to leave the fucking siren off.  When I woke up inside that thing I was already in a full-blown panic, and wore out those EMTs, let me tell you, before Sam’s voice and God!  does he work out or what? rock-iron grip on my arm got through to me.  He wiped the tears away and swore, over and over and over, that I hadn’t been shot again, that the oxygen mask was just a precaution, that he wasn’t going anywhere and they weren’t cutting open my chest again.  Especially not that.  It’s in my living will.  I am never, ever, under any circumstances whatsoever to be cut open like that again.  I’m sure my insurance company would be pleased to hear it.  Except only Sam knew about it, and he hadn’t liked it.  At all.

“I’m sorry,” Sam was saying.  “It was my decision.  I told them to turn it on.  It was the only way we could get through the traffic.”

I looked him in the eye and grabbed his shirt and pulled him down close.  “Don’t forget,” I said.  He knew instantly what I was talking about.  His face compressed in pain and fear and disapproval, but he finally nodded.

I relaxed as I felt my mind flood with the realization that I trusted him, that I would never, ever have to relive that horrible time, well, not in real life at least.  My dreams and flashbacks were another matter entirely and did not matter at the moment.  I was suddenly, finally, able to  believe that overall I was going to be okay, no matter what happened, that day, year, or rest of my life.  Secure, I let go of Sam’s shirt and listened to the sound of my heartbeat on the monitor.  


End file.
